It was always a challenge to control the mist. It really did have a mind of its own. Well, not really a true mind of its own it was mist after all, but it wasn’t predictable. And that’s what made it hard to control. Not as hard as water – that was for the really talented ones. The gifted ones. Sasha wasn’t a gifted one.
But controlling the mist, that was pretty good. And Sasha was pretty good at the theory of it, full marks and everything. But actually doing it? That was harder, it took a lot of concentration. Steady, fine concentration, a moment’s slip and it would evaporate. But that wasn’t Sasha’s problem, Sasha’s problem was that it also took a lot of time to call the mist. Needing ten minutes to call up some mist from a lake, in the morning, wasn’t going to help give Warriors cover. The Warriors always needed cover. Sasha often wondered why – it was like a herald to their coming but the Warriors wanted it, it was tradition.
Sasha’s use to the Warriors depended to the speed in which the mist developed and cloaked the ground. If it took too long, there would be no use for it. It had to be fast, it had to unnerve, it had to bring fear, it had to… Tradition, tradition, tradition kept rolling around in Sasha’s head. A slow creeping mist was useless. Beautiful to watch but utterly useless.
Sasha drew a deep breath and focused. Maybe today…?